


Simplicity

by BartonStark (BloodEnvy)



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Morning Cuddles, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:20:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25483066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodEnvy/pseuds/BartonStark
Summary: It's become a kind of tradition, you and Clint spending every weekend wrapped up in each other in your bed. And as they always do in these situations, feelings develop.Based on the prompt: "I have never loved you as much as I do right now."
Relationships: Clint Barton/Original Character(s), Clint Barton/Original Female Character(s), Clint Barton/Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 77





	Simplicity

“You know, I really think you need to start being the one to answer the door when the delivery guy comes.” you called out jokingly as you headed to the kitchen, a couple of pizza boxes balanced on one hand. You grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge, bumping the door closed with your hip.

“Why’s that?”

You paused in the doorway to the bedroom, gesturing down at yourself with the hand that held the beers. “Because every time Louie’s sends some teenager to deliver, he looks at me like he thinks he’s about to walk in here and recreate a porno.”

Clint gave you a lazy, lop-sided grin from your bed. He’d made himself at home, one arm tucked behind his head on the pillow. He was naked, the sheets pooled around his bare hips and one knee bent. The room was glowing with late morning sunshine, colored a dusky rose by the curtains attempting to block it out. He watched you with sleepy eyes, his gaze warm and inviting and his hair mussed. “Can you blame them? Baby, look at you?”

You were wearing a tee shirt he’d left behind a long time ago over your underwear, the hem of it barely reaching the top of your thighs. You hadn’t bothered finding a bra before answering the door. You rolled your eyes at him despite your smile. “Oh, stop it.”

His own smile widened, and he patted the mattress next to him eagerly.

“I’m serious,” he teased as he pushed himself up to rest on his elbows. The movement made the sheet slip dangerously low on his hips, and you watched the muscles in his stomach move despite yourself. “If I was a horny teenage boy, I’d be drooling on your doorstep, too.”

“Instead you’re just a horny adult,” you said, shaking your head in amusement.

“Don’t knock it,” he said, pointing a finger at you playfully. “If I wasn’t, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

“I would,” you pointed out. “This is my apartment.”

“And you’d be here, alone, and much less relaxed than you are right now.”

“Mmm… is that what you call it?” you asked jokingly as you kicked off your slippers and approached the bed.

“Much less with the orgasm-induced happy?”

You snorted. “How do you know I didn’t fake it, Hawkeye?”

He grinned up at you mischievously, an eyebrow raised. “You mean you’re faking that hoarseness in your voice there?”

“Oh, shut up,” you replied, and Clint snickered, running a hand through his hair, disheveling it further. You held a bottle out to him. “You’re the reason my neighbors hate me.”

“You love it.” Clint replied, giving the proffered beer a pointed look. Still, he took it with a shrug, twisting off the cap and tossing it on the bedside table. “Isn’t it still morning? Or did we _really_ sleep in again?”

“About eleven-thirty.”

“And we’re drinking already?”

You shrugged as you dumped the pizza boxes on the bed next to him. You opened your own beer, taking a swig. “Hey, when the guy who spends his weekends in my bed doesn’t want to take me to brunch for waffles and mimosas, I’ll make do with the beers he left in my fridge.”

Clint chuckled, helping himself to a slice from the top box. “Is that all I am to you? The guy who spends weekends in your bed?”

You grinned. “Pay for the pizza next time, and then we’ll talk.”

“What if I promise to bring champagne and orange juice next time?”

You nudged his bent knee with your thigh, and he lowered it. You straddled his lap slowly, smiling to yourself as you watched his gaze fall to your legs. You sat on his thighs, poking his belly with your finger lightly. “To go with pizza or leftover Chinese food?”

“ _And_ toaster waffles?”

“Then I’d consider upgrading you.”

“Hmm?” he replied, an eyebrow cocked. “To what?”

You grinned down at him, taking another sip of your beer. The two of you did this most weekends. He’d come knocking on your apartment door late Friday night or early Saturday morning, and the two of you would barely leave the bed until Monday morning. It had started after a few too many drinks one night six months ago, and now, he didn’t even ask if you had plans. He’d just turn up with a six pack of beers and takeout.

At the Tower, the two of you kept everything professional and friendly, but every member of the team had long figured out how the two of you spent your weekends together. No one bothered asking anymore for either of you to define the relationship; they’d all but given up on trying to figure out what exactly the two of you had between you.

You leaned over to fish through the drawer in the bedside table, pulling out a key. It was hanging on a keychain featuring a tiny silver version of the Avengers’ ‘A’ and a equally small coffee cup. “To the kind of guy who gets his own key?”

He grinned widely, reaching up to take it from you, but you snatched it out of reach, holding it to your chest.

“Bring waffles, then we’ll talk.”

He laughed, and you tossed it back into the drawer.

“Comfy there?” Clint teased, jiggling his leg underneath you.

You almost lost your balance, and you steadied yourself hastily, beer spilling onto your hand. You set the bottle on the beside table, wiping your hand on the shirt you were wearing. He gave you an offended look in response, and you smacked him on the chest with your palm. “I was, asshole.”

He laughed, endearingly a little too boisterous in your tiny one-bedroom apartment, his free hand taking hold of your thigh. He rubbed his thumb into the muscle gently, working out the tension left over from Friday’s training session. You bent over to kiss him, letting it linger for a few moments. His lips were soft against yours, his tongue touching your bottom lip for a second before you pulled away. You ruffled your fingers through his hair affectionately as you did, smiling at the way his eyes closed at the sensation, before reaching for a slice for yourself.

“You know, you’d make a pretty decent boyfriend, Barton.”

“Cheer,” he replied with a smirk, setting his beer down next to yours. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

“Aww, thanks.”

“Seriously,” he continued, picking up a fresh slice of pizza. “You’re gonna make some lesser man very happy one day.”

“‘Lesser man’?”

Clint raised an eyebrow at you, smirk widening cockily. “How are you ever gonna find anyone better than me?”

“You mean someone who goes to answer the door occasionally?” you teased, sucking pizza sauce off of your thumb. “How will I ever manage to find such a guy?”

“Not my fault I don’t know where my pants are.”

“They’re by the front door. Where you left them.”

It had been really late by the time Clint had shown up Friday night, back in town after a mission with Sam – so late that you’d already been in bed. You’d almost ignored the knocking, until you’d heard him whine your name through the wood of the door. You’d laughed quietly into your pillow before begrudgingly pulling yourself out of bed to let him in. He’d kissed you on the cheek as soon as the door was open, taken note of your pajamas and simply stripped down to his briefs by the door. You were still laughing when he’d taken your hand and dragged you off to bed.

“Ah.”

“Mind-blowing, I know.” you said with a smile.

“Absolutely incredible.”

You rolled your eyes, helping yourself to another piece of pizza. Clint watched you as you ate, and you felt your cheeks warm at the attention, and at the affection in his eyes. Both of his hands were now working away the tension in your thighs, teasing at the hem of his shirt. His fingertips ghosted over your inner thighs, and you hummed your approval at the sensation.

He didn’t stop staring, and you covered your mouth with your hand self-consciously. You tossed your half-finished slice back in the box – a crime that usually would have earned you an offended gasp from Clint. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because I have to tell you two very important things, Y/N.” he told you seriously, moving underneath you to sit up further, bringing his face closer to yours. His hands moved to your hips, holding you in place.

“Yeah?” you asked, confused. The two of you didn’t do serious or have ‘important’ talks. That shit was for the weekdays. “What’s up, are you heading out of town again? You just got back.”

“No, nothing like that,” he told you, shaking his head. His fingers slipped under your shirt – his shirt – to smooth over the skin of your waist soothingly. “You know, you’d suck at poker, baby. You’ve got panic written all over you.”

His hand slid to the small of your back, stroking along your spine slowly. “Relax, it’s not that kind of important.”

You nodded, relaxing into his touch. “So, what have you got for me, Barton?”

“Well, for one: **I have never loved you as much as I do right now**.” he told you with a lop-sided smile, and you felt your stomach twist with butterflies. The two of you had been dancing around that word for a while, but he’d still managed to catch you completely off guard. His left hand tightened on your waist, his right coming up to swipe his thumb slowly over your chin. “And two: you have pizza sauce on your chin.”

You burst into laughter out of sheer embarrassment, ducking away from his hand. He caught your cheek with his other hand, bringing your lips to his. He kissed you, his lips warm and sweet against yours. You melted into him, hands coming to rest on his chest. When the kiss broke, Clint sucked the sauce off his thumb with a grin, and you giggled, head falling against his shoulder.

His lips touched the crown of your head, his hand smoothing over your hair. You wrapped your arms loosely around his neck, pulling back to kiss him again. You rested your forehead against his, fingers curling in the hair at the nape of his neck. “So…”

“So, what?”

“You love me, huh?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, bumping his nose against yours. His hands smoothed over your waist, playing with the waistband of your underwear. “Yeah, pretty sure I do.”

“‘Pretty sure’, huh?” you smiled, ruffling his hair again. “That sounds pretty intense, Agent Barton.”

“Yeah, I even surprised myself with that one,” Clint replied jokingly. He took hold of your hips, turning and laying you out on the mattress underneath him. You pushed the pizza boxes out of the way, your knees bending on either side of his hips. His hips were flush against yours as he braced himself on one hand above you. The other brushed hair away from your face carefully, his eyes on yours. “And you know, you don’t—”

“It’s okay, Clint.” you said, running your fingers over his chest. “I love you, too.”


End file.
